Transcendence
by Princepen
Summary: AU-Synopsis: Events in this story span between 2278 (Star Trek the Motion Picture) to 2365 (2nd season TNG). Meeting in 2339, Picard and Guinan travel into the past to deliver on Q's promise for redemption against the Borg, but their plans are upended. Together with Kirk and the crew of the Enterprise they must battle a deadly enemy and prevent the future from being lost.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

* * *

**2278 Deep in the Alpha Quadrant**

"_Captain's Personal Log star date 7412.7: After a brief shore leave, the Enterprise has been dispatched to the far reaches of the Alpha Quadrant tracking a slow moving distress call. Our search continues as the source of the distress call has remained elusive for nearly one day. Although rescuing beings in distress is hardly welcome, I will admit that part of me welcomes the distraction of a more…routine mission. _

_Several weeks ago, the Enterprise intercepted an extremely powerful and deadly energy cloud, which was headed for a collision course with our home planet of Earth. My crew and I eventually succeeded in communicating with the so-called V-Ger entity—which we now understand to be an evolved Voyager 6 module from 20__th__ century Earth. What resulted from this new understanding was one of the most miraculous spectacles I have ever witnessed, which happened to coincide with the strange disappearance of Captain Willard Decker. It's safe to say that it will be a long time until my crew and I are able to put these events behind us."_

* * *

"Captain, we're approaching the coordinates ahead at 6000 meters." The slim athletic officer moved his hands fluidly over the helm controls, but he didn't move his alert gaze from the screen at the front of the bridge. A small grey spinning object lay ahead of them.

"Bring us in easy, Lieutenant," the Captain's voice said calmly from the command area behind him.

"Aye sir, braking thrusters." _Just when I was beginning to think things were going to calm down,_ thought Hikaru Sulu, as he activated the thrusters, abruptly slowing the ship's velocity.

"Captain," said Uhura tensely, turning halfway from her post. "I've confirmed the distress signal we picked up earlier…it's coming from the vessel dead ahead."

Captain James T. Kirk strode forward with his arms crossed. It was less about confidence or defensiveness, and more about his inability to stay warm. He felt a distinct chill on the bridge of the re-fitted _Enterprise_, and the new flimsy duty uniforms didn't help one damn bit. Even worse was the short sleeve version of the tunic. _Short sleeves_…_the best engineering minds in Starfleet couldn't come up with anything better than short sleeves. _

Like his helmsman, Kirk stared straight ahead at the view screen where the small dull grey ship spun uselessly. At least ten scenarios jetted from one area of his mind to the other, but until they took the chance to investigate further, they would not know. Meanwhile the crew awaited his next order. "Life signs," Kirk said quickly hearing and feeling the tension in his own voice.

"Two life signs, Captain," confirmed Chekov. "One is weaker than the other. They appear to be humanoid, Captain."

"Contact them," said Kirk. "Send our standard response to distress call," he said still watching the screen warily. His eyes narrowed. Was it some kind of booby trap? The vessel was small even for just two people, and as they drew closer it became more and more apparent that this was no Federation ship. "This isn't one of our own," he said, glancing to his right. "Spock?"

Commander Spock straightened from his position at a nearby science station and turned his head slightly to regard the captain. "Agreed, Captain. I have in the last few minutes run a series of scans, finding no suitable matches. However, I would say it is even more notable that the vessel we are currently observing is not a vessel at all."

Kirk frowned and put his palm on the back of his command chair, leaning his weight against it. "What do you _mean _it's not a vessel, Spock?" He lifted his hand to gesture at the view screen at the obviousness of the Vulcan's error.

"I mean, Captain, that although for reasons unknown to us this capsule has been pressed into service as a life pod, it was not built for such purposes," said Spock, turning to face Kirk squarely. "I recommend immediate transport of the pod and its passengers to the Enterprise, Captain. The life support systems such as they are, _will_ fail. It is merely a question of when."

Kirk studied his friend's impassive expression for a few more moments before nodding to Chekov. "You heard Mr. Spock. Emergency beam over into the main cargo bay."

"Aye sir!"

* * *

Kirk and Spock entered the cargo bay to find Dr. McCoy and Chief Engineer Scott gesturing angrily at each other while the alien pod, tube shaped and hardly two meters in length, lay inert on the deck. Small wisps of some kind of gas floated over the hatch, making it impossible to see inside the vessel.

"I've run a bio-filter scan and the whole thing is clean. Now there are two people dying inside that can, and you want to talk about the engineering schematics of this piece of junk? Good God, man, get a grip on reality and crack the thing open!"

"I'll have ye know, Doctor… that the whole piece of _junk_ is worth savin' whether you see the value in it or not! Now I'll open the pod as soon as the Captain gives the word—"

"Scotty, open the pod," said Kirk briskly as he and Spock approached.

"But sir, I—"

"Mr. Scott, there's no _time…_you heard the doctor, those people may not have long to live."

McCoy turned on Kirk as though readying for another fight. "Jim, I don't know why the hell you didn't just beam them to sickbay and save us all of this bickering."

Kirk sighed and pointed at the pod's hatch, nodding to Mr. Scott. The engineer moved forward with a cutting tool as he and his technicians began to work at the hatch.

Spock glanced at McCoy. "The transporter beam could not establish an adequate lock on the passengers of the life pod, due to interference with the vessel's composition. As you are quite aware, transporting organic life forms is a complex and…imperfect science, Doctor."

"Which is why I prefer the comfort of a shuttle craft any damn day of the week," snapped McCoy, brushing past the science officer.

Kirk, who had drawn his phaser, grasped McCoy's arm. "Bones…you're sure there is nothing resembling a disease or virus in that tube?"

"As sure as we can be," McCoy said slowly, and loosened himself from the Captain's grip. He re-focused his attention on watching Mr. Scott cut away at the hatch, which finally depressurized with a loud popping sound. The engineering techs lifted the hatch carefully away and placed it on the deck.

The officers resisted the urge to jump backward in alarm as a hand, brown skinned and human in appearance, reached out from inside the capsule. McCoy leaned over to grasp the hand, which was weak and shaking, and yet as he looked down into the face of the owner of the hand he saw clear determination. She was alive. Her companion, pale and seemingly unconscious was nestled in her arms. They both appeared human, and covered in superficial injuries. While the female was smooth skinned in appearance, something about her expression made clear to McCoy that she may have been 30 years old…or even 300.

The young man had short brown hair, was perhaps in his early twenties, and lay very still, which continued to cause McCoy concern. As he ran his tricorder over the man's body he noted that the man's heart was not working as it should be, which no doubt was the greatest source of his injury…and then further noted that the man's heart was completely artificial and far more advanced than was currently available in Starfleet.

"Who are you?" Kirk asked, now leaning over McCoy's shoulder.

"I'm Guinan," said the woman hoarsely. The young man's eyes fluttered open at that moment staring up at the officers, and like his companion his expression conveyed a singular determination and will despite his injured state. "And I don't think he remembers very much, but his name is Jean-Luc Picard." She sat up slightly and the man groaned and shut his eyes tightly. Guinan's mouth curled slightly into a smile. "As nice as it is to be alive...we're not supposed to be here."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

**2293 On Board the **_**SS Lakul**_

"_Attention crew and passengers: the Captain is pleased to inform you that in just two hours we will be reaching our target destination of Earth. The journey has been long and difficult for you all, but we of the Federation wish you peace and happiness as you begin the next steps in your lives."_

Guinan shifted her gaze to her left, and let it rest on the man who stared into the palm of his hand at a tiny disk. As she had observed him do numerous times during their seemingly endless voyage, the man placed the fingertip sized object on the table and then tapped it lightly once. He raised his head and straightened his shoulders in rapt attention as the hologram appeared above the table, showing the face of a beautiful woman.

She watched the man, as he stiffened and his face contorted with a rage that had until now been directed inward. "What are you staring at, Guinan? I have been irreparably harmed…therefore your services are neither useful nor welcome here."

"Tolian, we have all been harmed," she said quietly. "But I am here for you. There aren't enough of us left to be isolated from each other."

Tolian Soran fixed her with his intense stare. Perpetual tears which never seemed willing to cascade down his face, shone in his eyes. "You always know best, Guinan," he whispered fiercely. "And yet, even you cannot fix this," he said gesturing toward the hologram of his dead wife. "Can you bring our families back with all of your kindness and _listening_? Can you bring back what the Borg tore from our hearts?" He clawed at his chest as though desperate to find something that had once been there.

Guinan shook her head, not breaking eye contact with him. "No," she said.

Soran stood up swiftly, snatching the holographic projector from the table. The other El-Aurian refugees seated in the mess hall of the _SS_ _Lakul_, used to outbursts of this nature, and much worse of course, did not seem to take notice of Soran's departure. Guinan watched as he hurried away, as though there was somewhere to escape to on this ship.

When her eyes shifted back to the table, she was moderately surprised to see a new person sitting there. A hooded figure. She hadn't heard the shuffle of feet or the creak of the bench as the person sat down. But then again, she had been staring after Tolian Soran. Mentally she shrugged, although the outer layer of her skin immediately raised in goose bumps.

"Sometimes there is a way where you least expect it," the stranger said. There was something clearly alien about the way he said those words, and by his tone, she knew immediately that he was not El-Aurian.

"What do you mean?" she asked warily.

"A way to bring back something you long for; children…perhaps a good friend you once knew. Perhaps even a tree one sat under as a child on your home planet. These things appear to you to be gone…."

"But you are telling me they're not?" she narrowed her eyes and turned to the visitor. "Who are you?"

The man carefully lifted the hood away from his face. He appeared El-Aurian physically, but his eyes carried a strange light, and his face betrayed an intelligent, yet arrogant expression of amusement. "You would not understand a true answer to that question. However, for purposes of this brief visit, I am Q."

"Just Q, no other letters in your name? That must mean you are a very important person," she said with a small smile.

His eyes flashed eerily in the low light. "I am not a person," he clarified. "And most lower species I grace with an encounter find it shocking when I appear so suddenly in their presence. Perhaps you are less perceptive than I first thought." He returned her smile. "In any case, I am here to offer you a chance to reverse what the Borg have done to your home world…to your entire star system."

Guinan looked away down at the table. "In exchange for what?"

Q blinked. "I did not say this would be some sort of trade, El-Aurian. I am _giving_ you something…a mere gift."

Guinan raised a non-existent eyebrow. "I see." She held out her hand, palm up. "Then I graciously accept your gift."

The others in the room abruptly disappeared and Q's El-Aurian form was replaced by a floating star-like light. Guinan squinted, afraid for a moment that she would permanently lose her vision.

"I will not take this mockery from a lower life form. You interest us, but there is a limit to the insolence I will endure."

_Us? _Guinan stood up, still shielding her eyes from the bright light. "If there was a way to reverse the damage done by the Borg, how would I do it?"

"You must wait for a time…."

"How long?"

"Forty-six years."

"What?"

"You are about to arrive on the planet Earth. You will find that the people there look quite like you, but that is where most of the similarities end. In any case, should you not decide to stay on Earth permanently- I could hardly blame you if you decided to flee immediately; however, you must return to Earth in exactly forty-six years. I will then give you the gift I mentioned earlier."

Guinan nodded, and found the glowing light in front of her was now not only bearable to look at, but it quite pleasantly warmed her. She smiled genuinely now. "Thank you."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

**2278 The **_**Enterprise**_

"How are your new guests doing, Captain? You are to be commended for saving them before their life support ran out. Of course…we'd like to know what the hell they were doing out here in the first place."

James Kirk sat stiffly, observing his commanding officer Admiral Edward Fitzpatrick on the private view screen in the captain's lounge. "Unfortunately it will take a bit more time to gather all of the information," said Kirk. "Both of the individuals we rescued from that makeshift life pod have been traumatized—for lack of a better word."

"Traumatized by what?"

"As soon as I have more information I will transmit it your way, sir."

"You have sent me just enough already to confuse me, Captain. According to your report the one named Jean-Luc Picard claims to be in Starfleet."

Kirk frowned. "Well, according to his companion—Guinan is her name…she told us who he is. He's barely said a word since coming aboard. According to Doctor McCoy he's had quite the knock on the head and is experiencing some form of amnesia."

"Well, there is no record of such an officer currently in Starfleet," said Fitzgerald suspiciously.

Kirk smiled. "He's just a kid, hardly twenty, if I had to guess. If he's in Starfleet he hasn't advanced very far, sir."

"But as I said, he doesn't appear in our records at all. Which means this Guinan woman is lying."

Kirk raised his eyebrows. "We'll get the answers you want, Admiral. Now…will that be all, Admiral?" Kirk gave a half smile and leaned forward in the chair folding his hands between his knees. The captain's lounge offered not only comfort but privacy, and he allowed himself to relax a bit. In contrast, the older man on the small view screen appeared anything but relaxed.

"No. I've been asked to inform you that the inquiry into Captain Decker's disappearance has been officially closed."

Kirk nodded briskly, but inwardly he was very relieved. Finally Decker's choice to merge with an advanced sentient machine would no longer be a burden to his crew. "Good," he said simply.

"Not to take anything away from your most recent heroics, Jim, but if you hadn't taken a voluntary demotion to captain, there were quite a few heads over here at Command who would have seen to it that you never wear the rank of Admiral again."

"Yes, I've gotten that impression," said Kirk mildly. "But Ed…it was Decker's choice to walk away from us…to abandon Starfleet. You've always said yourself that a person has to follow his destiny."

"And so walking away and…joining with the Voyager 6 entity was his destiny? That's insane, Jim."

Kirk shrugged and raised his empty palms.

"Did you even try to stop him?"

"Of course I did! But it all happened so quickly, I—none of us knew _what_ to think, Admiral."

"Let's face it Jim, Decker was in your way. We all knew it. You _let_ him walk away."

Kirk tightened his jaw silently and sat back in his chair. "With all due respect, Admiral, you weren't there. Will Decker was stubborn. Quite frankly, he hated me," Kirk admitted. "But that doesn't mean I would have allowed him to throw his life away just so that I could have my ship back."

"_Your_ ship, Jim…do you even hear yourself? The _Enterprise_ was completely re-fit over those 18 months, and hardly resembles the ship you commanded." The old man sighed. "But the fact is you're in command again now. You've got the green light, and you've got the _Enterprise_ back. The question is what are you going to do with it?"

* * *

"How is he, Bones?" Kirk said, walking swiftly into sick bay. Spock arrived a moment later, and McCoy waved them both into his office. A security officer stood next to the young man, now identified as Jean-Luc Picard. The man sat on an examination table staring at his dangling feet. He had regained a healthier skin tone, and of course he was now conscious. He appeared healthy enough, but his strong features held a confused expression. When Kirk spoke, the man glanced up, and appeared about to say something, but apparently reconsidered, returning his stare to his dangling boots as they walked by him.

McCoy led Kirk and Spock into his office before turning around to answer the captain's question. "He's lucky to be alive. That artificial heart of his had been stunned somehow. When we rescued them from that floating capsule it was only just beating."

"Artificial heart?" Kirk glanced at Spock with a bemused expression. Spock merely arched an eyebrow.

McCoy nodded. "There's evidence of a surgical procedure, maybe a month ago, and his scars are still healing. What's more there is evidence of trauma to his back. A jagged knife wound. If I had more information…."

"Which you don't," Kirk said patiently.

"Which I _don't_," McCoy agreed. "But I would say he'd been stabbed just before the surgery, which would explain why his original heart is missing."

"Unless he's some kind of cyborg with a cardiac implant," Kirk said.

McCoy stared at him as if he'd never heard such an idiotic statement. "No, Jim," he said slowly. "He's human alright."

Spock raised his chin thoughtfully. "I am afraid I have to concur with Dr. McCoy."

"You're _afraid_ to have to agree with me, Spock?"

Spock shrugged slightly. "Not literally Doctor. And at the excessive rate you utilize colloquialisms I would expect you to understand this." McCoy raised his index finger, but Spock ignored him, continuing. "As I was saying, I agree with Doctor McCoy, as Mr. Picard's companion Guinan asked after his condition with some concern. She indicated that she believed his heart had been injured, and that it was still 'healing'."

Kirk sat down on the edge of McCoy's desk. "But he'll live?"

McCoy put a blood sample carefully down on the desk and crossed his arms. "Yes. He's in top physical shape, aside from his now recuperating heart, a serious head wound and multiple defensive wounds. Both he and Guinan were in some kind of battle, that much is clear."

"But he's still not saying a word? Why?"

"His memory continues to be a no-show, Jim. He knows his name, seems at least familiar with Guinan, but seems to have no clue as to how he ended up in that pod."

"Can't you cure his amnesia?" Kirk demanded. "There are things we need to know from him."

"Jim this isn't something you can force. With most head wounds like his, memory can eventually be restored. But it could take time."

Kirk glanced up at Spock. "And what about Guinan? Is she talking?"

"Guinan has been quite forthcoming," said Spock. "However, I would suggest you interview her yourself, Captain."

Kirk got up from his seat. "Why?"

"She has a great deal of information to share with you. In addition, she is not human. She identifies as an El-Aurian, from the planet El-Auria."

"Never heard of it," Kirk and McCoy said at once.

Spock raised another eyebrow and placed his hands behind his back. "That is because we have no recorded contact with her species."

"I examined her, Spock and I didn't find one alien bone in her body," protested McCoy.

"She admits to being nearly identical physically to humans," said Spock mildly. "She says however that she is over 400 of our years old, which is hardly a typical human characteristic."

Kirk shook his head. "Why should we believe any of this?"

"She hopes that you will, Captain. She claims several fascinating assertions. The first is that she and Mr. Picard have traveled from the future in the year 2339. The second is that they did so by traversing the Guardian of Forever. And thirdly, despite her efforts and those of young Mr. Picard, the future has been changed, and not for the better. Furthermore, if she is to be believed, Captain, the Federation is at grave risk here in the present."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

**2278**

"Your presence on board my ship has created quite a stir, Ms. Guinan," Jim Kirk said, sitting down across from the mysterious woman.

"Actually, it's just Guinan. I don't believe in titles." The woman smiled back at him, and her projected sense of calm was almost unnerving. Kirk glanced up at Spock before returning his gaze to hers.

"Mr. Spock tells me that you traveled from the future. Why?"

"You're not concerned about how?" she asked mildly.

"Please answer my question. What are you doing here?"

"A fool's errand," she said. "In less than twenty years from now…in your time—my civilization will be obliterated and my people will be scattered throughout the universe. What is left of us…." Her smooth face tightened slightly and she looked at a point over Kirk's shoulder. "I trusted someone I shouldn't have. Someone very powerful. He—or _it_, I should say- gave me information and the means to return to this time period in 2278 to change history and discourage the enemy from ever going to my home world. Unfortunately I wasn't the only one who had similar plans," she said cryptically. "And now I truly cannot predict what will happen to my people in the future, or to anyone else for that matter."

"Who is this enemy?" demanded Kirk.

"The Borg," she said.

Kirk glanced over at Spock. "Have we ever heard of the Borg?"

Spock straightened slightly. "No, Captain. The Federation has no record of having encountered such a species."

"Then count yourself among the fortunate," Guinan said dryly.

"These Borg have the power to destroy an entire civilization…"

"In just one assault, Captain," she confirmed. "A single ship is all they need. But they possess thousands more."

Kirk leaned in. "And now the Borg are on the loose in the Alpha Quadrant? We have to warn Starfleet Command. But I'm going to need more information from you, Guinan. And I also need to know why you are traveling with a young man who you claim is a member of Starfleet. Yet, we've _no_ record of him."

"Of course you don't, he's from the future."

Kirk reddened with irritation. "It's convenient isn't it that he can't corroborate your story? That he doesn't remember a thing."

She shook her head. "It's a long story, Captain. However I will do my best to explain it. But please…how is my friend? I never intended for him to come with me in the first place. And now he's been injured and I owe him my life."

Kirk glanced at McCoy who was leaning against the wall of the small interrogation room.

"You're an alien?" McCoy was still slightly annoyed that his tests had not turned this up.

"Again, I prefer to be called Guinan, but you are correct that I am not human."

McCoy crossed his arms. "Your friend is going to be fine," he said gruffly. "But for the moment, his memory is shot. How exactly was he injured?"

"We were on a Borg ship," she said. "And things were not going our way. How we managed to carry out the plan, I almost don't know. He's very brave. If he survives this, he's going to be famous in the future…perhaps even as famous as you, Captain Kirk," she said with a knowing smile.

Despite himself, Kirk smiled back. "You have me at a disadvantage, because I don't _know _the future." His smile faded gradually. "But something tells me, a future with these Borg is not a real future at all. So please don't delay any longer…tell us your story."

* * *

**2339 Earth**

The first thing that hit her was the familiar warmth of the Terran sun, as she stepped down the ramp of the civilian passenger shuttle and onto a grassy field. The Pacific wind whipped over and around her large hat, which she had noted more than once, tilted as needed, but never seemed to fall off. She strolled out into the field and sat down in the soft grass. She remembered having sat cross-legged as a child in a similar type of vegetation on her home world so many generations before. "Well, it's been forty-six years," she murmured, closing her eyes and letting the sun caress her face.

"And as the humans say, it seems just like yesterday!"

Guinan opened her eyes and fell to her left side onto the ground as Q who was suddenly kneeling down, had spoken directly, and very loudly into her right ear.

She pushed herself back up and onto her feet, keeping her anger safely in check.

"Oh, don't stand on my account, El-Aurian," Q said. "Although I _am_ without question the superior life form here."

Guinan carefully adjusted her hat and looked at him squarely. "I'm here, Q. Now where is my gift?"

"No pleasantries, I see. So hasty, Guinan…surely you know the old saying about how good things come to those who wait?"

"Actually, I've never heard that saying Q. It is a good one," she admitted. "But don't you think I've waited long enough?"

Q smiled craftily and then threw himself down in the grass and lay on his back basking in the sun. "Not to worry, I will deliver on my promise," he reassured her. "But the best I can give you now, is the information you will need to re-manifest the destiny, so to speak, of the El-Aurian people."

She glared down at him. "So I've waited forty-six years just to hear some _information_…."

"Yes," he said simply. He opened one eye to look up at her. "You see, you are not the only one of your species bent on vengeance. In fact, there is one very clever El-Aurian scientist who unlike you decided to make his home here on Earth for the last forty-six years."

Guinan sat down again in the grass next to the prone Q. "Soran is still here?"

Q smiled and closed his eyes again, placing his hands behind his head. "Yes, and he has spent nearly all of these years plotting his revenge against the Borg. You see he now has a weapon of great power. Doctor Soran is a genius, but a delusional one. Little does he know that this weapon, though significant, will not be enough to destroy a Borg ship. Still he has cleverly introduced a viral program in the weapon that he believes can be spread to other Borg ships."

Guinan shook her head. "How could he even have the means to find the Borg and plant such a weapon?"

"He doesn't," Q said. "Didn't you hear me say he is delusional? His entire body of work for the past forty-six years has been _futile_." He opened his eyes and fixed her with a wide smile. "Get it?"

Guinan, now distracted by the thought of Soran with a devastating weapon, merely shrugged.

Q rolled his eyes. "Someday you'll get the joke…believe me," he said. "Although I'm guessing you won't be in the mood to laugh then either."

"I don't understand."

Q pushed himself up onto his elbows and stared at her. "There is a point in history where it is possible to divert the Borg from your home planet…entirely. Your civilization will not perish, Guinan. Isn't that what you _want_?"

She squinted in the sun and looked away. For some reason, her eyes fell on a human male sitting beneath a tree reading a book. Nearby a group of young men and women his age played a game approximating something she had played as a young person. They kicked a ball and chased one another through the grass. Oddly she wondered why the man under the tree was not joining in the game. She had no idea why she even cared, except that she felt compelled to walk over and say hello to him. She turned back to find Q watching her curiously.

"Not yet," he said.

"Not yet what?"

"You can't meet him yet…the human under the tree. Don't worry he's entirely predictable and will be back in the same place tomorrow."

Guinan's eyes narrowed. "Why do you want me to meet him?"

For the first time, Q paused, and seemed unsure of his answer. Still he had one. "Despite his appearance, he may be of some use to you. But not yet. First you must steal Dr. Soran's weapon from his laboratory. Accomplish that, and I will explain the rest."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

**2365 The**_** Enterprise**_

Jean-Luc Picard pushed the empty glass away with the tips of his fingers, and watched as it slid away on the smooth surface of the bar. He had been deep in thought, so when he looked up he was mildly surprised to see familiar deep brown eyes looking back at him.

"This is one of my favorite glasses, Captain. Try not to break it," Guinan said quietly, picking up the glass and examining it a moment for possible damage, before turning to place it behind her.

"Sorry." He gave her a half smile and then rubbed his eyes. Saurian brandy had the effect of making him sleepy; which is what he had wanted. He sighed and pushed himself up, ready to return to his quarters for what he hoped would be a less fitful period of sleep. He turned back to give the bartender a good night nod. She gave him a small salute, and he proceeded to leave the mostly empty Ten Forward Lounge, when Guinan unexpectedly called after him.

"Captain," she said, and he turned around with an expectant look. She was wiping down a glass while staring directly at him. "Does the sector of space we're passing through right now seem at all familiar to you?" The question was simple, but he could tell by the look on her face that she was very concerned about his answer.

He frowned and shook his head. "Not particularly…why?"

She came from around the bar to face him. "You and I passed through here a long time ago. It was during just one of several adventures you and I have had through the years."

Picard smiled slowly. "Maybe we did pass through this system. Of course, that's a possibility. It just doesn't seem significant to me for some reason." His nostalgic smile faded as he watched her. "Should it?"

Guinan gave him a reassuring smile that he didn't quite believe. "It doesn't matter. We can talk about it the next time we see each other."

He nodded. "Alright. Good night then."

"Good night."

* * *

Picard walked at his usual swift pace through Deck 10 with every intention of traveling back up to his quarters on Deck 8. But when he reached a juncture with a turbo lift, he stepped into it not because he decided to, but more so because he felt compelled to do so.

And when he said "Deck 36", he didn't understand why, and yet felt no confusion as to why he had selected main engineering as his destination. As the turbo lift descended, he felt a pressure growing at the base of his skull, which became so intense that for a moment he believed he would vomit. Reaching out to steady himself on the wall, he tried to tap his com badge with the other hand, only to find that the pain suddenly passed. In the next moment, the doors opened and he stepped out into main engineering….

* * *

**Several Days later…Earth-Starfleet Medical**

"She didn't even tell me she was going on leave, and, then she just…just abandoned the project. She said she was thinking of changing her career path."

"Barnes, you called me down here for this? I don't have time to track down members of _your_ staff who are defecting from _your _project." Beverly Crusher silently counted from one to five in her head as she stared down the young scientist. She put her hands on her hips and watched with annoyance as he ran a hand through his hair uncomfortably and held the data pad out to her nervously.

"But, Doctor, you _asked_ me for a status report on the project!"

Crusher sighed and dropped her hands to her sides. Perhaps she had asked him for the report a few days ago; but she'd apparently forgotten having done so. Whatever she had demanded of him some days ago, she had no intention of standing here just to listen to Dr. Barnes recite his report to her in the middle of the main exobiology lab. Nine months into her current position as Head of Starfleet Medical she had already learned the hard way that it was one thing to keep track of the small number of staff on board a starship, but to do so at Starfleet medical was another story.

"We've been over this before, Doctor Barnes! I am not in the habit of micromanaging, and I don't have time to keep track of who is on leave and who is on duty. You are in charge of this lab, so get your staffing issues in order." Beverly Crusher stepped quickly away from her subordinate before he could fashion any kind of response, and exited the lab, heading out into the main corridor. Before she could allow herself any kind of satisfaction she heard footsteps approaching from behind.

"Doctor Crusher? Might I have a word?" Beverly turned her head sharply at the sound of a woman's voice. She recognized the uniform and pips of an admiral immediately, and slowed. She gave a small responsive nod, but didn't recognize the older woman.

The woman approached with her hand extended in greeting. "Admiral Althea Wayland," she said with a curt nod of her head.

"Beverly," Crusher said simply and accepted the firm handshake of her superior. She kept her expression innocent.

"Your recent symposium on extraterrestrial pathogens was very well-received, Doctor," said Admiral Wayland, falling into step beside her. "You have been making quite the impression since transferring here from the _Enterprise_."

Something in the searching look Admiral Wayland was directing her way, along with the abrupt mention of her old post, put Crusher immediately on guard. She didn't like talking with her new colleagues about the _Enterprise_ except in general terms, and avoided all conversation about why she had actually left. And the reasons why continued to needle her. A subject she had no intention of sharing with Admiral Wayland, who was staring at her expectantly.

Beverly smiled graciously and silently plotted the most efficient retreat. Sadly the corridor was a long one, and empty save for her and the admiral, so she settled for saying, "Thank you Admiral, we were quite happy with the reception. The presentation by the Andorian contingent was particularly engaging." She paused, slowing her steps again, at the same time realizing she would soon be late for a meeting. "Admiral…is there something in particular I can help you with?" She asked with polite impatience.

Admiral Wayland halted abruptly then. She looked confused perhaps by something Beverly had said. "Well I was going to ask for your expert opinion on the upcoming Daystrom Institute conference on Relva VII next week. You see, I will be attending, Doctor…and the subject matter of the conference intersects with your symposium…of course I would like it to appear that I know what I am talking about."

"Oh. Yes," said Crusher, blinking with irritation. _Of course._ _She wants me to prep her._ "I think I know the one. Look Admiral, I don't mean to be rude, but I have a meeting in just a few minutes. Perhaps we could discuss this tomorrow over lunch—"

"I'm sorry, doctor, but I have to say this." Crusher hadn't noticed until that moment that the Admiral had grown paler by the second. Wayland suddenly placed a hand on Crusher's forearm, causing Beverly to immediately stop talking. "When I mentioned your old ship, you didn't have the reaction I expected. Not after the news this week…."

Beverly frowned and a brief flutter of concern traveled through her stomach. "What news?" she demanded a bit more harshly than she had intended. She pushed her hands into her pockets, a habit that she had adopted on board the _Enterprise _when she enjoyed the comfort of a roomy lab coat, in contrast to her current stuffy uniform. Hands still in her pockets, she gave a small shrug and tried to curb her confusion. "I've been so busy this week I hadn't seen any news reports. Was the _Enterprise_ in the news?"

Wayland looked surprised and embarrassed all at once. "Beverly, something quite horrible has happened. Would it…would it be possible to postpone your meeting until later today?"

* * *

_**Enterprise**_

Commander William Riker folded his arms over his chest and cleared his throat, hesitating before walking in to main engineering. Riker gave Geordi LaForge a curt nod as he passed, noting that the shorter man conveyed an expression that was just as somber as he himself felt. He took a deep breath and proceeded through the organized bustle of the ship's inner realm, before halting in a less crowded area.

Just as it had been for several days now, a temporary medical bay had been set up around one of the main control consoles in engineering. Doctor Katherine Pulaski and several of her subordinates busily checked readouts, and monitors beeped tones that were indecipherable to him. Mere distractions from the fact that Riker had a problem he had no idea how to fix.

Kate Pulaski looked up from her tricorder as he entered, and her normally hard expression softened to a degree. _She actually feels pity for me_, he thought. _But the feeling is mutual, because neither one of us is coming up with any damn answers. _"What's his status?" he demanded sharply.

If Pulaski felt badly for Riker, she didn't say so out loud. Instead she merely raised an eyebrow at him and paced over to the wall where Captain Picard had been standing now for the last three days.

"For lack of a simpler way to explain it, Commander, he is _exactly_ the same," the Chief Medical Officer said, sounding utterly frustrated. Riker tilted his head, allowing himself to really look for the first time, at the man who so recently had leveled that familiar exacting stare at him. A sometimes cold and severe personality, Jean-Luc Picard was still a human being with thoughts and feelings. Or at least, he had been until a few days ago.

Riker circled slowly. Picard's eyes remained closed, and his body still. A blue shimmer of vibrant energy outlined his frame, and a single outstretched arm made contact with the engineering wall panel with just the tip of his index finger. Geordi and Data had determined no harmful effects thus far from the bright blue energy beam. For the moment it seemed innocuous except for the fact that it had paralyzed the captain.

"But do we even know what that means? That he's the same?"

Pulaski shut her tricorder with a snap. "Look, I wish I had more to tell you, Commander, but I don't. The Captain appears to be in some kind of suspended animation. His vitals are consistent with someone who is in an artificially induced coma. He appears healthy physically, for now…but as you can see he hasn't moved from this spot, while standing here for several days. Human beings can't remain unconscious in a standing position for three days. He hasn't eaten or taken in fluids, and yet his nutrient levels remain within normal limits."

"So whatever this field is, it is keeping him upright…and feeding him?"

"So to speak. In addition, the field is making it virtually impossible to do any kind of suitable scan even for basic vital signs. The best I can tell is that he's alive. Until we have the ability to penetrate this energy field, I think we will be forced to continue the guessing game."

"Geordi and Data are working on something. If there is a way to break through that field we will find it." Riker rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and stepped around to look at the back of Picard's head, from which a bright blue wisp of energy seemed to flow. He pointed. "That…is that the source of the trouble?"

Pulaski moved closer to the captain so that her face was bathed in the bright blue light. "Because this flare of energy here appears to be exiting from the base of his cerebral cortex, and because I have so little information to work from, I would have to say yes." She sighed. "If the reticular formation inside the Captain's brain has been damaged or perhaps…interfered with," she said pointing at the base of his skull, "that might explain the coma-like appearance."

Riker's communicator buzzed, and he tapped it reflexively. "Riker here, go ahead."

"Commander, Lieutenant Worf here. You are receiving a priority message from Starfleet Command."

"I'm in Engineering. Patch it through please."

"Aye sir."

Riker stepped away from the motionless form of Captain Picard and leaned against a wall panel. A green blinking light signaled that the message was waiting for him, and he tapped at the screen. To his surprise, the message was not from a live person, but had been transcribed into text.

"_Starfleet Command, Emergency Interim Regulation 267. Commander William T. Riker: Pursuant to Title 15 of the Galactic Emergency Procedures, you are hereby ordered to relinquish command of the Enterprise to Admiral John Emmet, upon his on-ship arrival in one Earth day. Per Starfleet Command General Order One, all personnel are immediately prohibited from interacting, communicating, touching or otherwise attempting contact with Captain Picard until further notice. Additional information and instructions will be forthcoming. End transmission." _

Riker turned halfway around to fix Pulaski with a stunned look. He shifted his gaze to the inert form of Captain Picard and then back to the doctor. "Command just prohibited us from communicating with the captain…they've invoked the Prime Directive."

"What?" Pulaski nearly dropped her tricorder.

Riker's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "They're framing this as a first contact situation, doctor." He let out a short laugh—still stunned. "They may be treating the captain as though he's an alien species!"

"They may be right."

Riker and Pulaski both turned to see Guinan standing there motionless. "Something isn't right, Commander. And my advice is to get the ship out of this area of space before we find out what that something is."

* * *

**Starfleet Medical**

"What is going on, Deanna? Why haven't you contacted me? I tried reaching Wesley through subspace yesterday...I've been trying to give him his privacy lately, because he's been so moody, you know the whole teenage thing. But he hadn't responded yet. I didn't think anything of it, but now...if something has gone wrong, Deanna..."

"I'm sorry, Beverly, but I've been trying to reach you all week," her friend insisted.

"What? I haven't received a call from you! Not one message, Deanna, and now-"

"Beverly, I think your personal communications array has been blocked," Deanna interrupted with deliberate slowness. "Someone didn't want you to get through to the _Enterprise_, and obviously didn't want us to reach you either. I have honestly called you at least ten times in the last few days, and this is the first time I have succeeded."

"Who the hell would be blocking my communications array? They'd have to be blocking my personal array and the one here at work...I don't understand."

Deanna looked pale. "I don't know if it is safe to speak on this channel," she suggested, lowering her voice.

Beverly rubbed her hands over her knees and sat forward anxiously. "Is Wesley alright?"

Deanna smiled. "Yes of course, he's perfectly fine. He is safe," she added.

Crusher exhaled in relief and closed her eyes momentarily. She took a deep breath. "What about Jean Luc...is the Captain alright? Admiral Wayland said-"

Troi leaned forward into the screen with a small forced smile. "Can you find another console to use, Beverly? Try and call me from there."

Crusher pressed her lips together and nodded grimly. "Yes, of course. Stand by for a few minutes please." Troi smiled softly and the screen went black.

* * *

As Crusher leaned back, she thought for an instant she caught a glimpse of an unfamiliar person reflected on the computer screen; just fleeting and in the doorway of her office. She turned around quickly, to find no one was there.

"Who's there?" She demanded, getting up from her seat, adrenaline now pumping. She walked cautiously out into the corridor but she had been working late and the hallway was empty as it should have been. Her senses now heightened, she rushed quickly down to a turbo lift, and then reconsidered.

Stopping, she felt her ears perk up and listened for soft footsteps. Had she imagined them? Turning to her right she saw a utility access way, the hatch was tightly shut. Looking behind her again, she saw no one. _I am the Head of Starfleet Medical and I will be damned if I allow myself to be frightened inside my own facility._ She stepped into the turbo lift and waited for the doors to shut before saying, "Fifteenth floor lounge." A few moments later she reached her destination.

* * *

A couple was leaving the lounge, and she nodded at them allowing a small smile in an attempt to restore some normalcy before entering the room. She glanced around. No one else was there and she immediately spotted a public communications console. She approached and sat down; typing in a security code that she knew would get her in contact with Deanna on a more secure channel. A few seconds later her friend's face appeared on the small view screen.

"Deanna, tell me what's going on," she said as calmly as possible. "Admiral Wayland told me earlier today that something horrible had happened on board the Enterprise and that the Captain had fallen ill. Everyone here is whispering about it now, and I have no idea what's really happened."

Thankfully this time, Troi did not hesitate. "Earlier this week, Captain Picard was found unconscious inside engineering at around midnight. No one knows what he was doing there or how this all happened but…he is alive and surrounded by a strange energy field, and continues to be in some kind of a coma. Will has been placed in command, but Starfleet is now making it difficult for him to fully investigate the situation."

Beverly put a hand to her chest. "And Kate Pulaski didn't bother to contact me?"

"I told you, Beverly. If any of us, had been able to reach you sooner, we would have."

Crusher licked her dry lips and ran a hand through her hair tensely. "Fine. I accept that. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm not there. As soon as I can, I will get approved for leave and come there."

Deanna tilted her head sympathetically. "Oh Beverly, you're the head of Medical now. You can't just _leave_. I just wanted to make sure you knew…I wasn't trying to convince you to leave your post. And we are in deep space right now. I have no idea how long it will take you to reach us."

"It doesn't matter," Beverly said, getting up from her seat. "I'll find a way even if I have to resign. I'll see you soon, Deanna." Imbued with a new sense of determination, she shut off the terminal and turned around to find she was not alone.

A tall man with greying dark hair dressed entirely in black, stood with his hands draped behind his back almost casually.

Beverly froze. "Who the hell are you, and how long have you been standing there watching me?"

"Please have a seat, doctor", the man gestured to one of the soft chairs by the view port. Normally looking out into San Francisco bay and the city lights beyond it would have calmed her. But now she felt very cold and alone and completely on guard.

"I'm not going to sit down," she said indignantly. "Who are you?"

"My name is John Emmet. And I'm with Starfleet Intelligence. And of course I know who you are, Doctor Crusher." He smiled and gestured for her to sit again. "Please."

She sat down slowly, still looking up at him.

"You're concerned about Jean-Luc Picard?"

She nodded slightly but just stared at him. "You just overheard my entire conversation, didn't you?" She looked down at her hands in her lap. "Of course I'm concerned. He's my friend," she said quietly.

"Well, I too am very concerned about his safety."

"Do you know what's happened to him?"

Emmet smiled slightly. "We believe we do…but there is still time to help him." Emmet leaned forward seriously. "I can get you on to the _Enterprise_. I've already made arrangements with the Federation Council. They balked at first…didn't want to lose you. But you've now been approved for a temporary leave of absence."

Beverly raised her eyebrows in genuine surprise. "How did you manage that?"

"I have what you could say amounts to…clout. In any case, I need to know that I can count on your awareness of the _extreme_ sensitivity of this situation."

Crusher looked at him as though he was crazy. "Mr. Emmet…I don't even know what this situation _is_. All I know is that Captain Picard is in a coma, and he needs my help."

"Oh it is much more than that, Doctor. Much more." There was a certain excitement in his tone that made her question going anywhere with him. But she knew she needed him to reach the _Enterprise_.

"I'll gather my belongings and be ready in an hour," she said rising from her chair.

"But once we are on board the _Enterprise_, you have to promise to play by my rules. I hope you can understand this crucial point, Doctor."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

* * *

"Guinan, please elaborate," Riker said sharply. "Now is not the time for vague statements about how 'something's not right'".

Guinan shook her head slowly. "It may already be too late," she said gravely.

"If I may support Commander Riker's argument; that too was a vague statement" offered Data.

Guinan nodded. "That may be so." She walked carefully over to stand as close to Picard as the quarantine barrier would allow. "So long ago," she murmured and then glanced over at Riker. "If I'm right, it's too late to move the ship. There was a reason why Captain Picard came down to Engineering," she said. "It's admirable that you have been so focused on helping the Captain but you have ignored his interface with the ship's computer," she said pointing to where Picard's index finger touched the engineering wall panel.

Riker swore under his breath.

"We haven't ignored it," Geordi spoke up defensively. "We just have no idea what he's doing."

Riker swore again, and hit his communicator. "Helm, ahead full impulse power, any coordinates."

There was a moment's silence before Wesley Crusher's voice replied. "_Sir, the helm is unresponsive."_

Riker glanced at Guinan. "Try again, Ensign. Emergency override."

"_Sorry sir...no response."_

Riker had to restrain himself from shouting. "Data, LaForge...you're up," he said. Riker watched them glide quickly out of the engineering bay to consider the puzzle of the stalled starship. "What the hell is going on, Guinan?" He demanded.

"It was a long time ago...one of our first adventures together, Commander. We were separated for a time," she said. "I should have known they would have done something to him. Someone, or something must have wiped his memory in all the right places," she added. "I should have known," she said again.

Katherine Pulaski walked over to a chair and plopped down tiredly. "Well, it looks like we're not going anywhere anytime soon. Why don't you start from the beginning?"

* * *

**2339 Earth**

"What do you mean I have to steal Soran's weapon? Are you _insane_?" Guinan stared up at Q in disbelief.

"Insanity would require that I possess something resembling a brain...which I do not. Unless I want to of course."

"Unless you want to...this is all a game to you, isn't it?"

Q's approximation of humanoid eyes glittered with a dangerous challenge. "Would it really matter if it _was_ a game, El Aurian?"

"Yes! Because I can certainly choose not to play."

Q raised himself to his considerable height, leaning down dramatically over Guinan. "Can you, now? But if there is a game underway here, you are clearly already playing along. You chose to return to Earth exactly when I told you to when when we last spoke forty-six Earth years ago." His eyes narrowed. "You may find it is not so easy to undo the choices you have already made."

Guinan turned her head, raising her chin slightly. "And that young human over there; is he part of the game, Q?"

Q merely smiled at her.

"I can't say I am very impressed with your choice of players, Q. You _do_ realize you are playing on the grief and anger of two pathetically beaten down El-Aurians in order to carry out your game?"

"Who said it was _my_ game, mortal?"

"Well, you are the omnipotent one, right? Why wouldn't it be your game to control?" She tilted her head upward and smiled. "Or are you _not_ in control? Is that what you're telling me, Q?"

Q's eyes narrowed again and the being's eyes seemed to stare through her. The sunny day grew immediately dimmer and she felt a cold feeling sprout in her chest in slow fine tendrils, like an evil hand grasping for her heart. It was an uncomfortable reminder that one must be careful not to anger an omnipotent being.

Instead of backing down, to her own surprise, she pressed on. "What exactly is this gift you plan on giving me?"

Q's eyes grew less cloudy, and the discomfort left her chest, but he still glared down at her. "The knowledge to do what must be done," he said, a quiet danger still in his eyes and tone. His mouth curled into a sly smile. "You _do_ want to save your people, don't you, Guinan?"

She decided for now to change the subject. Guinan tossed her small backpack on over her shoulder, trying to remain casual about the whole matter. "Does Soran have any idea that you exist?"

"No," said Q. She focused in on his eyes, but had no idea if he was telling the truth. In fact, the more she stared into his eyes, the more she was convinced that only emptiness lay behind them. His very appearance was a sham, a disguise. What, she wondered, was his true form?

"And if I decide to forget about all of this, and walk away, what then, Q?"

Q simply opened his palms and shrugged. "Perhaps you would like to take the chance that a genius scientist bent on revenge will be unable to use his own weapon? And that by doing so he may irreversibly alter history for the worse..."

Her voice sounded small to her own ears. "Who says I would be able to do better than Soran in stopping the Borg?"

Q smiled. "Do you want to take that chance, Guinan?"

Taking his point to heart, she glanced over at the human reading in the shade. She watched as he ducked to the side as the game ball when careening past him. "Sorry man!" One of the players jogged over to him as he tossed the ball back in open irritation. Guinan turned back to Q. "I have no idea what these humans are saying," she said.

Q squinted down at her. "You've traveled to Earth in the past...despite your feigned ignorance about this planet. What is your excuse for not learning their languages?"

"I used a universal translator. Besides, I traveled here during a less developed stage in their history. Consequently I didn't stay for too long..."

"You have my sympathies," he offered a sarcastic tilt of his head, before growing serious again. "You wanted to know the truth of what you have to do stop the Borg, and perhaps it is not worth my time to wait any longer to enlighten you." He then waved his hand casually in her direction. "There you are...everything you need to know about everything you _need_ to know. Including how to communicate with these aliens. You will find now that with some concentration you will understand them, and should find in most other respects, that you will fit right in. But as for that human over there...do not approach him until tomorrow. Or you may regret it." With a wink, he was gone.

Guinan felt her limbs grow heavy, and she collapsed onto the ground in a loose sitting position. The weight of the information Q had instantly bestowed upon her was so overwhelming that all she could do was let it flood through her brain. She now knew what she had to do; how she must travel to the past and what she must do when she arrived, in order to prevent the Borg from destroying her home world. And yet something was telling her that to follow through with this plan could be the worst decision she could ever make.

* * *

Beverly Crusher leaned back into the seat and clasped her hands in her lap. John Emmett sat one seat ahead of her at the shuttle ontrols. He'd been silent nearly the entire trip, and now with just a few hours until they reached the Enterprise, she had reached her limit. "You said I would have to play by your rules, Mr. Emmett. Now, what are they, exactly?"

"You'll see," said Emmet, not bothering to turn away from what he was doing.

Beverly snapped off her safety harness and got up quickly.

Emmet did turn this time. "What are you doing?"

She moved forward and sat down in the co-pilot's seat next to him. "I'll see? Listen, who _are_ you? Should I be addressing you as 'sir'? You certainly are behaving like someone who is used to being in charge."

He smiled slyly at her. "My official title is Admiral. But I'm not one who usually needs to pull rank, doctor."

Was he threatening her? "Admiral, I have so little information, I can't possibly be of help to the_ Enterprise_ crew-"

"Just what information do you think you have, Doctor?"

"You heard my entire conversation with Deanna Troi, didn't you?" She accused. He kept his eyes forward on the view screen. "Well that's all I know," she insisted. "How can I help the Captain if I'm at such a disadvantage? I _need_ to talk to Kate Pulaski. Would you open a channel?

"Doctor Pulaski is not currently involved in Captain Picard's care," he said in a low voice.

"What? Why not?"

"She may be infected, but we can't know for sure yet."

Crusher felt a clammy film form over her skin. Her heart fluttered with anxiety, now thinking about her son and his safety. "What...Deanna never said anything about any kind of disease. She said some kind of energy field has incapacitated the Captain. Why would she lie?"

"She wasn't lying, Doctor, she was telling you what she believed to be the truth. However, the story counselor Troi told you was just that...a story Command created to mask the truth.

_The son of a bitch is lying to me. Should I believe anything he says?_

"The being which has inhabited Captain Picard's body is a highly advanced life form. But for lack of a better word, it is a parasite; albeit unlike anything you will have previously seen. It has a fourteen day gestation period, after which it is completely vulnerable while searching for a new host. Keeping captain Picard isolated from the rest of the crew during that period, will minimize risk to others and keep him stable. That will be your job, Doctor Crusher."

Beverly held back an overwhelming sense of revulsion. "And on the fourteenth day?"

"On the fourteenth day it should be possible to destroy the parasite, saving Captain Picard in the process."

_"Should _be possible?"

"There are no perfect odds with this sort of thing, doctor. You should know that."

"So you said it is also a virus? How is it contracted?"

Emmett hesitated. "Through touch."

"What is the average time frame for infection?"

"Based on what we have seen previously...several days."

"So you've seen this parasite before? What is it called?" She picked up her data pad.

"You won't find this life form in any official record, doctor."

"Why?"

"It's classified."

"Then once again, I am at a disadvantage, Admiral. What exactly are you expecting from me?"

"Just as I said, I expect you to monitor Picard's vital signs until the parasite has reached its mature stage."

With every word from Emmet, Crusher's outrage grew._ He has no compunction about allowing a parasitic being to grow inside Jean-Luc. _"Admiral, even if I wasn't a long time friend and colleague of Captain Picard, I am still an ethical person...and a physician. What you are asking of me..."

"If Captain Picard dies and you did nothing to stop it, what will your ethical position be then, I wonder?"

Beverly got up from her seat and walked away from Emmet. _What am I doing here? Why is Emett traveling all the way into deep space to kill a parasite? Does he intend to capture the being for his own ends? I can't possibly go along with this insane plan. I have to try and remove the parasite. _"What if I remove the parasite?" she asked out loud.

"You will kill Picard." He let that sink in for a moment before saying, "Doctor, it is crucial that you do not repeat anything I just told you to the _Enterprise_ crew. This is coming from Starfleet command. Any breach will result in your immediate removal from any contact with Captain Picard."

"I see," she said shortly, hugging herself. Whether real or imagined, she was unable to stop the growing chill inside the small craft.

Emmet turned around in his seat and fixed her with an unwavering stare. "I must have your complete confidence and cooperation, doctor."

"I see," she said again.

"You say that, but I don't have an answer from you as to whether you intend to cooperate."

She stared down at the deck. _You've come this far, Beverly,_ she told herself. Abruptly she looked up. "I'll do it."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

* * *

**2278**

Captain Kirk stood in the doorway of the deck three mess hall. He tapped a comm button on the wall, leaning into it. "Status, Mr. Spock..."

"As you ordered, Captain, we are heading toward the coordinates identified by Guinan. At our current speed of warp five, we should arrive in approximately thirty minutes."

"They didn't drift very far in that life pod, did they?"

"No sir. But as the Enterprise was relatively close by...they didn't have to."

"Right...Kirk out," he said, lightly hitting the panel with the side of his fist. He stepped fully into the room and was immediately accosted by the smells of starship issued meals and the laughter and conversations of his young crew. His eyes rested on the young man who had accompanied Guinan. He was sitting alone, and was alternately shoving food in his mouth, and furtively watching the regular crew members.

Kirk walked up behind Picard and put a hand on the young man's shoulder. Picard spun around as though defending against a surprise attack. Kirk very nearly missed blocking the man's elbow from hitting him below the belt. "Easy! Easy..." Red faced, Kirk walked around the table and sat down across from Picard.

Picard resumed shoving half a dinner roll into his mouth.

"Hungry?" Kirk grinned. Picard shrugged, and picked up a fork as though trying to remember what a civilized young man he really was. "Usually the meals on board my ship don't inspire that kind of interest," said Jim.

Picard glanced around and placed his fork down. "Yes, sir."

"You _sound _like a Starfleet Officer. But you see...there's no record of you _existing."_

Picard took a long drink from his water glass but said nothing.

"What's your name?"

"Jean-Luc Picard."

"Rank?"

Picard blinked twice. "Ensign."

Kirk smiled tightly. "Why did you just hesitate? If you know who you are, there's no reason to hesitate..."

"Sorry sir...my memories are still a jumble." He picked his fork up again.

Kirk took one of the bland rolls and tapped it on the table. "Do you know where you are?"

"The doctor told me I'm on board a starship," said Picard.

"That's right," said Jim. He extended his hand. "Captain James T. Kirk-"

Picard dropped his fork and stared at Kirk in undisguised awe.

* * *

**2339 Earth**

Ensign Jean-Luc Picard shifted uncomfortably against the trunk of the old tree he had recently claimed as his daily resting place. He dropped the book into his lap and raised his gaze to fix it on the players involved in one version of the same game of football he had been watching all week. To his annoyance, the game seemed to be in session no matter the time of day he showed up. Though not much for team sports, he would have given anything to have joined in after weeks of being denied most physical activity. Never in a million years, however, would he have admitted that to himself. He also would have never admitted that he was lonely, having left his family in France, and all of his friends had now departed for their first duty assignments, leaving him behind.

He shifted again, unable to find a spot that he could stay still in for more than five minutes. His upper back burned, and had been itching incessantly for the last two days. Quick movements and strenuous activities still frustrated him and caused him pain. Although stronger now, he still did not feel himself. During his last check up with his surgeon he had asked pointedly if the implant was healing according to schedule.

"Your progress is on target, Ensign. I understand your frustration, but your body is simply continuing its healing process," the surgeon had informed him.

He didn't hesitate. "And how long until I can be cleared for duty?"

The doctor had fixed him with a cold stare. "You'll be cleared when I determine that you are fit." Jean-Luc glared back up at him until the older man's expression softened somewhat as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Ensign Picard, a bit of advice... if you had put as much concentration and effort into staying out of harm's way as you do now in returning to active duty, you wouldn't be in this situation. You nearly died and your heart was irreparably harmed. And for what? You've been given a second chance, Picard...don't waste it."

Jean-Luc bristled, but kept his mouth shut. He'd been lucky to avoid a major inquiry by Headquarters into his brawl with the Nausiccans, and so administratively he was in the clear. The last thing he needed now was to get on the bad side of this physician, who had the authority to keep him grounded. The young ensign knew he needed to be cleared as soon as possible, so he silently warned himself to cooperate. Jean-Luc forced a thin smile; knew very well it must have appeared forced, while nodding respectfully. "Yes sir."

* * *

He blinked sweat out of his eyes, brought back to the present as a wave of self-disgust washed over him. Years of hard work and discipline had come to this; a delayed career because of an instant of poor judgement. He took in a steadying breath and shut his eyes again. The damn pain injections were making him drowsy again. He hated the loss of control. Giving in to the fatigue, he felt the rough trunk of the tree against his face as his head lolled against it. As he dozed, the enthusiastic shouts from the game faded, replaced by the booming sound of his father's voice from just weeks ago.

_"I am very disappointed in you, Jean-Luc. All your fancy Starfleet education and training didn't stop you from making a fool of yourself. I suppose you still intend on traveling the stars despite your...disability?"_

_He had ignored the direct insult. "As soon as I've been cleared for duty...yes."_

_"They sent you home to recuperate...but you cannot even stand to remain here with your family for more than three days?"_

_"Sir, I have to get back-"_

_"You have tried since you were a child to distance yourself from your family, from our traditions. It seems your struggle is over and you are free."_

_"Father, that is not true! Just because I have aspired to something more, to be something greater-"_

_"Greater than who, Jean-Luc? Than me? It's not enough to aspire to be a great man, while you make foolish decisions, that nearly get you killed. You are unable to see the weakness in your own arrogance, and so you will never be great. Never."_

* * *

His head jerked away from the tree, and his eyes snapped open. Pressing his palms tightly against his eyes, he shook his head, angry at his father, and even angrier at himself for dwelling on what had been inevitable since he lay at night as a youth staring up at the stars. He was leaving his old life behind, despite the objections of his father. Dropping his hands, he saw that the ball game was beginning to disperse, with the players leaving the field, shaking hands and clapping each other on the back in an overbearing display of camaraderie.

Across the park his gaze caught on a short woman who seemed to be talking to herself. She appeared human, but her clothing wasn't the current civilian style, not that he cared for such things. Inexplicably, she seemed to him be somehow alien.

Watching her gesticulate in the air at an invisible opponent made him suddenly laugh spontaneously, at her ridiculous movements. But his smile, as it often did, faded gradually into a frown. She seemed completely convinced that she was talking to another person. And yet...He shook his head again, this time with pity. "That poor woman...talking to herself, and having quite the conversation too...she must be quite ill," he murmured to himself, still watching her.

She didn't seem likely to harm herself or anyone else for that matter, so after a few more moments he turned away. She raised her voice at that moment, and he heard "..Q..." Glancing up again he saw strangely that the woman appeared suddenly frozen in place.

Alarmed, he squinted up at the sun which had seemed to disappear. The sky darkened now, even though there were no visible clouds. He shivered, but then the sun reappeared and the world seemed normal again. For some reason he felt no further alarm. He looked again at the strange woman who was now sitting in the grass. She appeared mildly confused, but unharmed physically. He gave a little shrug and picked up his book again, adjusting his back against the tree once more.

* * *

"Why weren't you playing with your friends?"

He glanced up sharply at the unexpected interruption. It was the woman he'd just been watching, and without warning, she was now standing quietly above him. She was now perfectly composed. He nearly dropped the book into his lap but caught it carefully, still holding it to his chest. Despite her human appearance, he sensed immediately that she was not so. He couldn't explain the feeling, and not one to put much stock in his own feelings, he adopted his most studied look of disinterest, hoping to convince her to leave. Jean Luc made a face. "Do I look as though I am friends with those people?"

"Actually you _look_ like you have no friends at all. Which seems really strange since you are such an engaging and handsome fellow."

Embarrassed and annoyed he rose stiffly to his feet. "I do have friends," he insisted a little too quickly. He relaxed his grip on the book and let his hands drop to his sides. "But they're not here...at the moment," he admitted more slowly.

She smiled and looked into his eyes. "I have some business to attend to this evening," she said. "But would you like to talk again? Perhaps tomorrow."

_Talk again? _Frowning, Jean-Luc backed up clumsily into the tree, scraping the back of his head. "Ow! Look, I'm sorry but-"

"My name is Guinan," she said smoothly.

"Jean-Luc Picard," he said, rubbing his head and watching her with reserved suspicion as he offered his other hand almost reluctantly. She frowned and looked down at it as though such a gesture was unfamiliar to her, before returning his grip.

"A pleasure," he murmured, as he loosened his hand from her grip. "Look," he ventured again. "I don't mean to be rude, but I'm really not looking for any company right now."

"I didn't say I wanted to talk right _now..._I have something else to take care of first."

_"_I only just met you," he said cautiously.

"Isn't that the whole point? This way we can get to know each other better."

He raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Are you asking me on a date?"

"What's a date?" She watched closely as he grew even more visibly uncomfortable. She thought for a moment more and it came to her. Then she laughed. "Oh is that what you think?" She laughed and put a hand on his wrist. "First of all, if I wanted to date you, believe me you'd know it," she said with a small smile. "To put it bluntly, son...I've been around."

Jean-Luc winced. _Son?_

"Don't worry, I have a certain _type_," she said. "And you're not it," she added plainly.

Despite his immediate relief that this strange woman was not trying to proposition him, he was still mildly insulted. He scoffed. "Oh is that right?"

She nodded. "That's right. I like bald people. I find them very attractive. Don't know why...I just do."

Picard rubbed the back of this neck and laughed. "My father is completely bald," he said, touching the short hair on top of his head almost protectively. "So perhaps if you were to wait a few more years..."

She smiled. "I'll keep that in mind," she said. "But I hardly think I'm _your_ type. You see I am very adept at figuring people out."

Jean-Luc frowned. "I'll have you know that older women are not...unfamiliar to me." He regretted his remark immediately, but she was unfazed.

Her eyes shone with amusement. "Just how old do you think I am, Mr. Picard?"

He made a reluctant face, but realized retreat now was not advisable. He kicked at the dirt with his boot. "Forty?"

She held up her index finger and laughed. "Close, very close."

* * *

_"You'll find it is not so complicated after all to steal from Soran_," Q's voice echoed through her head.

"But how am I supposed to locate this weapon of his?"

"_Don't worry, you'll manage,"_ Q said. And just as quickly as he had popped into her head, he popped out again and was gone.

It was now dusk, and after having a light lunch and a nap, she ventured back to Starfleet Headquarters. Q had somehow transferred all of information into her brain. Instead of it overwhelming her, however, she had been able to access the information as needed. It was as if she was simply remembering a recent visit to Starfleet Headquarters. And as all of the needed information imparted by Q was now stored in her brain, she simply walked toward a very specific and well-guarded area of the enormous campus, as though she had walked there countless times before.

She thought of the young human again. Picard. She felt drawn to him, and she hadn't wanted to befriend another person in years. He was just the kind of alien she most enjoyed Listening to...the kind who chose his words almost too carefully. Usually such regimented minds held many secrets. A Listener like Guinan could thoroughly get to know the average humanoid alien within minutes. But this human, she sensed would be a challenge. Not only was he uninterested in talking, but his innermost thoughts and emotions were guarded expertly for someone so young.

As she approached a security station her mind suddenly filled with anxiety. What if they didn't buy her story? She had little chance of getting past the guards if they weren't convinced. "Would it have killed him to have given me a Starfleet uniform?" she muttered to herself. She felt incredibly alien at that moment as though anyone observing her would automatically know she did not belong here in this place. Despite her discomfort, she raised herself up and continued her approach finally stopping in front of the security officer.

"Hello," she ventured in her friendliest voice. "I'm here to see-"

"Doctor Soran! I didn't see it was you at first, sir," the guard said, running his hand quickly over the door lock, swishing the door open.

Puzzled and alarmed, Guinan looked over her shoulder, finding no one standing behind her. When she returned her gaze to the guard, he was staring at her with clear recognition. Something she certainly did not share.

Guinan glanced down at her hands and saw that her appearance had changed drastically without her having noticed. Q! Though she had no subtle way to check her reflection, she assumed that Q had changed her physical appearance into that of Soran. Immediately changing her expression to match the arrogant one she recalled Tolian Soran perpetually wore, she sneered at the guard, "Well, be quick about it. I'm a busy man!" It was both strange and exhilarating to hear Soran's voice amplifying through her own throat.

The guard nodded anxiously. "Sorry doctor, I thought I'd seen you go up to your lab about an hour ago."

"If I was in my lab, how could I possibly be here?" She demanded rudely, walking by the perplexed guard.

* * *

Immediately hearing footsteps in the corridor, she instinctively blended into a shadowy alcove before remembering she at least looked as though she belonged here. Hesitating again as the footsteps came closer, she saw that her instincts had been correct; the approaching feet belonged to none other than Dr. Tolian Soran, who was headed right past her. She shrank further into the darkness, thankful that the corridor was not better lit. Still, she could see Soran's characteristic spiky haircut and familiar profile. Suddenly, his footsteps slowed and halted. Like her, Soran was as sensitive as any El-Aurian when it came to the presence and emotions of others.

She heard his heels turn slightly so that he was facing in her general direction. "Who's that over there?" he snapped, sounding more annoyed than fearful that he was being watched.

Guinan slowed her breathing, and remained still.

"Lights, increase by eighty percent," Soran ordered the computer and immediately the lights brightened, flooding the corridor.

Reflexively, Guinan shielded her eyes from the light. To her surprise, when she opened her eyes Soran was looking directly through her. She glanced down at her feet and saw...well she saw nothing, because she was now invisible. Q.

Still suspicious, Soran turned and stepped away. She watched as his keen mind worked things through. Satisfied finally that he was alone, he headed back toward the way she'd come in.

Eventually Soran's footsteps faded into the distance, and she allowed herself a small sigh of relief, before focusing once more on finding Soran's laboratory.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

* * *

**2365**

To mere mortals, the vastness of space seems infinite, a continuing and relentless expansion. To mere mortals, that is…. But then mortal beings can be so easy to astound and impress. Meanwhile an ancient race of immortals, who long ago were actually quite similar to humans, congregated in a meeting of sorts. To say that they congregated suggests they possess a physical presence, which of course they do... when it suits them. Their power is as seemingly infinite as the universe, as is their potential to perceive the past and future as easily as they do the present. This group, for lack of a better word, were and _are_ the Q.

"Your recent actions concern us, Q."

"How so?"

"When you last encountered the humans you hurled them into Borg space."

"And so what if I did? My actions are my own."

"Actions for which you were-"

"For which I was so cruelly punished..._again_," Q interrupted. "Why is it _I_ who always must be made an example of? This moral pandering is well beneath us Q, I will have you know. In fact it is downright regressive."

"Are you suggesting that the Q have ceased to evolve, Q?"

"That would be a far more interesting concept than being lectured to by you, Q," replied Q.

"We agree this is an interesting premise, Q. It bears consideration…perhaps your obsessive traits are indicative of your own personal de-evolution."

"Obsessive traits?"

"Your feigned disinterest is curious, however, your obsession with these humans may be your undoing."

"I cannot be undone..none of us can. After all, Q, we are infinite."

"Yes, Q," the Q agreed. "But why do you continue to pursue the humans, particularly the one called Picard? We have considered all possibilities, and still find this puzzling."

"For the moment, I find humans to be fascinating. Their rudimentary technology, selfishness, and innate curiosity amuses me. I am sure that will change in time. As for Picard...he hardly bears mentioning."

"Are you attempting to deceive us, Q? We know you have been meddling with the Space Time Continuum again."

Q decided to remain silent.

"Q..."

"What of it?" he demanded eventually.

"Our concern is not what. Of course we know _what_ you have done. Our concern is _why_, Q?"

"I told you already..."

"Again, deceit!"

Q pondered leaving the meeting, as rudely and abruptly as possible just to get his point across. But the Q had already placed him on virtual probation for the last year. He didn't need the continued aggravation. So he opened his consciousness to them...to a point.

"Ah...we see now. You _regret_ your actions toward the humans. What a limiting emotion for a Q to experience."

"Nonsense. I regret nothing. However, I did take a look into the future."

"To correct a mistake?"

"A mere re-calculation," Q clarified. "I saw that in one Earth year, Picard will be assimilated by the Borg, and most of his precious Starfleet will become a sad memory in the wake of a Borg invasion."

"Why is that your concern, Q?"

"Had I not introduced Picard and his crew to the Borg in the manner in which I did, those ceaselessly boring automatons would never have taken an interest in him."

"Still your motivation for intervening in Picard's fate is unclear to us. You are deliberately concealing your full intent."

"I'm not," Q protested.

"And so by interfering in the past...you intend to prevent his eventual capture and assimilation by the Borg in 2366? Why? Compassion has never been your strong suit, Q."

"Compassion has nothing to do with it," Q reassured the Continuum.

There was a long pause, and Q could feel his brethren trying to understand his meaning. Still, he quietly resisted their intrusions.

"Picard and his crew are not interested in the power of the Q," said the Q. "Your attempted recruitment at the beginning of their voyage, failed. You have just explained you believe them to be inconsequential. And yet you continue your visits to them."

Q was unsettled, but brushed the question off. "Picard is hardly worth anyone's time, even the Borg."

"You cannot be certain of that, Q. And by tampering with the past, you may have ensured that the future of humankind is lost."

* * *

**2365 Enterprise**

Guinan stood motionless looking out a viewport, facing away from Riker, Deanna Troi and Dr. Pulaski. Riker's bottom lip twitched with impatient annoyance. "Captain Picard is in some kind of coma, I've got an admiral coming to take control of this ship, and Command has just ordered me and everyone else on the Enterprise to stay away from the Captain...and now we've lost propulsion. So, Guinan, if you've got something to say, say it!"

_Will..._Deanna shot the First Officer a sympathetic look. She knew he felt helpless and frustrated, possibly more than anyone else, but she also knew that of all the people on board he needed to remain calm.

"If it helps at all, she was about to tell you everything…."

All three officers turned to find Q standing nearby. He was wearing a Starfleet Admiral's uniform, which did not give him pause. Riker had long ago stopped trying to find meaning in Q's clothing choices.

Guinan continued to stand motionless, which the officers now realized was not by her own choice. Q strolled over to peer down into her still features, and then gave Riker an infuriating smile.

"No, Q, that doesn't help at all," shot back Riker. "Now if you have something to do with this—"

There was a brilliant flash, and suddenly Q stood close to Riker. "If I have something to do with this, you'll do _what_?" said Q quietly into Riker's ear. He laughed sharply and stepped away. "The fact is, Riker, there is absolutely nothing you can do, because you are in too far over your own head. You all are," he announced to the gathering group of engineering and security personnel.

The officers watched as Q walked back over to Guinan. "The fact is," he said, stopping to playfully tap the top of Guinan's hat with his fingers. "That although the El-Aurian was about to tell you everything she knew, nothing of what she knows could possibly help you save Captain Picard."

"Save him from what?" Pulaski demanded. "We don't even know what's happening to him!"

"Frustrating, isn't it? Humiliating isn't it?" Q mocked her.

"Q, why are you here?" Deanna Troi demanded.

"Why? To remind you of your human frailty of course. If Picard is to escape his predicament, his rescue cannot be left to amateurs such as yourselves," he said. "And especially not to her," he said derisively, pointing at Guinan. "Until next time," he said, with a mock salute, and then snapped his now glowing fingers. In the next instant, both he and Guinan had disappeared.

* * *

**A Few Hours later...**

_**"**Acting Captain's Log Star date 42362.2: Lieutenant commanders LaForge and Data have so far been unable to reverse the invisible hold on our propulsion systems. Currently under orders not to even interact with Captain Picard, I can't help but wonder why Command has chosen to tie my hands like this. My hope is that with the arrival of Admiral Emmett today, we will finally get some answers."_

Riker stood next to the transporter console with Counselor Troi at his side.

The Admiral's long-range shuttle is signaling two to beam over, Commander," Lt. O'Brien said glancing at Riker.

Riker frowned. "Two?" He sighed inwardly. Of course no one at Command had filled him in on any details, and he hadn't known if the Admiral would have an entourage or not.

"Admiral Emmett is initiating decontamination procedures on his end, sir," O'Brien added with some confusion.

But Riker was beginning to lose his capacity to be surprised. "Fine." He nodded at the transporter chief. "Energize."

A few moments later, two figures had materialized on the platform. Both were wearing special environmental suits complete with helmets, and yet one of the visitors was immediately familiar. Both Riker and Troi stepped forward excitedly. "Beverly!"

Instead of a suitable response, Beverly Crusher glanced over at her companion, a tall slim male, who stepped down from the transporter pad and nodded to Riker. "Riker?"

Riker straightened his posture, careful not to convey his irritation. "Yes...Admiral Emmett?" The man merely responded with another imperious nod inside his helmet. Riker stepped forward with his hand extended, which, at least, the Admiral shook in a perfunctory manner. "Welcome aboard the _Enterprise." _

Troi walked toward Crusher, but to her continued surprise, her friend and former colleague turned away. The doctor picked up some kind of equipment, which she was now maneuvering on an anti-gravity pallet. Satisfied she had it under control, she stepped down from the transporter pad. She met Troi's gaze finally, and even through the faceplate of the woman's mask, Deanna knew immediately something was wrong.

"Beverly," she whispered. "What's going on?"

"Hello, Troi." Crusher glanced meaningfully in Emmett's direction, and then shook her head at Troi, as to discourage her friend from asking further questions.

Troi extended her hand in an attempt to make some kind of contact.

"Don't touch me," Crusher warned quietly. There was no anger in her voice, but the confusion and worry were evident.

"Doctor Crusher," the Admiral was now beckoning her sharply.

She stepped away from the counselor's pleading gaze, guiding the strange equipment along beside her.

Emmett gestured toward Crusher. "As you can see, my medical team is a team of one. However, you need so few personnel these days when you have just one who is an expert in her field." He smiled thinly. "And a professional who understands her role in this mission so perfectly."

Riker tried to engage Crusher with a quick smile, but she averted her eyes. _What the hell is going on here?_ _What mission?_ _And what is with the environmental suits?_ "Doctor, it's a pleasure to see you again...if you have any insight into the Captain's condition-"

"_Commander_ Riker, Doctor Crusher does not report to you or anyone else in this crew. She is on indefinite leave from Starfleet Medical, and consults only with me regarding her duties on this ship. And I am now assuming command of this vessel. Is that understood?"

Riker nodded curtly. "Yes, sir." He turned his head as they passed by he and Troi. "Sir, I've been in the dark on this, and I would appreciate a briefing of some kind," he said sharply.

Emmett didn't bother to turn around. "You just had a briefing, Mr. Riker. If you're still in the dark, that's not my concern."

* * *

**Enterprise 2278**

Guinan looked up from a small computer screen where she was reading the latest galactic news. As usual the negative stories seemed to dominate. She heard a shuffle of feet and turned in her seat, putting a hand on her large hat to steady it. "Hello," she said seeing that the starship's Chief Medical Officer was leaning in the doorframe of her guest room.

"Well...you're definitely an alien," McCoy said with a tone of gruff confirmation, crossing his arms.

"Well...yes," Guinan admitted slowly. "At least from your perspective," she added with a small smile. "Of course, I haven't tried to hide that fact from you, Doctor."

McCoy walked casually into the room and flopped down in a chair across from the El-Aurian. "But you didn't tell me you'd been shot with a disruptor."

Guinan shrugged. "I heal quickly," she said quietly.

"I'll say! I had to re-review your readouts more than once to locate all of your injuries. But that doesn't explain why the hell you _lied_ to me."

Guinan tilted her head. "Lied? I simply chose not to tell you I'd been shot. That's not a lie, it's an omission."

"Well where I come from, we call that a lie."

"Doctor, as we've established, where you and I come from are two entirely different planets."

McCoy smiled. "True enough." His smile faded. "But if you want us to trust you...if you want _Jim Kirk _to trust you, you'd better think about being less selective about what you tell us."

Guinan watched him closely, before nodding solemnly in agreement. "All I want to do right now is to undo what I've done."

Leonard McCoy leaned forward with his hands on his knees. "Can you?"

She shook her head. "I don't know..."

McCoy scratched his temple. "I want to talk to you about your friend..."

"How is Ensign Picard?"

Dr. McCoy squinted. "Why so formal?"

"Well, I've only known him a week or so," she admitted.

"That would explain why he seems to know little to nothing about you...and yet you call him a friend."

"That's right," she said.

"Then you'll be interested to know that he appears to be gradually regaining his memory," McCoy said watching her closely.

Guinan returned his probing gaze. "Good," she said simply.

He squinted at her again as though she was receding from view. "You're not in the slightest bit worried he might contradict your story once he's got all his marbles back?"

Guinan had no idea what a marble was, but still she got the point. "Why should I be worried? Everything I've said is the truth."

* * *

"Anything from the sensors?" Captain Kirk strode onto the bridge.

"Minimal tachyon traces, however, given the area of coverage, I would surmise that the vessel was immense, Captain." Unhurried, Spock stood up smoothly and tugged down the hem of his shirt, as he turned to face the Captain. His eyebrow raised curiously at the sight of the young human they had so recently rescued from a makeshift life pod. Jean-Luc Picard stood silently next to Kirk, hands clasped behind his back, glancing with fascination at the bridge around him. The muscles in his jaw twitched, and his hazel eyes were sharp and alert.

_A disciplined mind for one so young, _Spock observed silently with a growing degree of interest. _Perhaps it is best when the most difficult lessons are learned early_ on, he considered, remembering the young man's injured heart, and the probable violence that had caused it. "I will analyze the sensor readings, Captain. But we are working from very little information thus far." He looked directly at young Picard.

Seeing Spock' s perceptive gaze, Kirk smiled and placed his palm on Picard's shoulder, for the moment playing the gentle paternal angle. Picard stiffened slightly in surprise at the warm gesture, and Kirk gave the young man his most comforting smile. _This kid's got daddy issues, for sure. _"I've brought our young friend up here to help us retrace his steps, so to speak," Kirk said aloud.

Picard managed to break his gaze from the command chair and turned his rapt attention to Kirk. "Anything I can do to help, sir."

Kirk glanced at Picard again with a small, but exacting smile, dropping his hand from the man's shoulder. "Guinan told us she's unleashed the Borg on the Alpha Quadrant as part of some plan to deter the Borg from destroying her home world."

Picard frowned, still looking at Kirk. "Sir, is that what she told you?"

Captain Kirk moved to his command chair and sat down. "You heard me, Ensign," he said sharply, no longer bothering to look at Picard. He was betting the young man would respond well to the sudden change in dialogue. Picard was clearly unsettled, still having problems with his memory, and he seemed star struck by Kirk and the very concept of finding himself on board the _Enterprise_. Still, Kirk knew he needed to gain Picard's allegiance, if he was to learn the truth of why these two mystery travelers had arrived on his ship at this moment in time. And as far as Kirk was concerned, Guinan was not telling him everything he needed to know.

"Yes sir," said Picard, lifting his chin and striking even more of a formal pose. "I didn't intend to question you...but there was someone else involved-someone who I-I don't quite remember, sir. But whatever Guinan did, she was trying to do the right thing."

Jim Kirk got up from his chair and faced Picard. It was then that he realized they were almost exactly the same height. But he didn't require physical grandstanding to gain the advantage here. "That's not going to be good enough, Mr. Picard. Vague statements about third parties, aren't going to cut it. Do you realize I could simply drop you two off at the nearest planet, and no one would miss you? There is no _record_ of you even existing."

"Sir, I am familiar with your record...and I don't believe you would ever do such a thing," Picard said confidently. But still he glanced at Spock for support, as though well aware that the Vulcan was relied upon by Kirk to guide away him from rash decisions. The fact that the young man did this, attempting to somehow gain favor with Spock irked Jim to no end.

"Sir!" Uhura turned from her post. "Incoming priority message from Admiral Fitzpatrick."

Kirk moved back to his command chair. "On screen."

"Jim..."

Fitzpatrick was visibly shaken. And Kirk could safely say he'd never seen that expression on the old man's face. "Admiral, what can we do for you?"

"Jim, whatever it is those two strangers unleashed has just destroyed half a star system."

Kirk stood up again. "What?"

"You heard me. According to survivors there was one ship, reportedly cube-shaped. And it transmitted some kind of computer code in a loop. The invaded space wasn't Federation, Jim, and they weren't familiar with the code."

"Were you able to translate it? I'm sure Spock can-"

"It's already done. Sending it over to you right now," the Admiral said grimly, and nodded to someone off screen.

"Sir, it's coming through now," said Uhura. Within seconds a strange, musical yet mechanical rhythm was playing on the bridge. It played again in a continuous loop, nearly shaking the deck with its intensity.

Kirk and Spock exchanged glances. "It's V-Ger," Kirk said.

"More accurately," said Spock. "It is the enemy ship, transmitting V-Ger's communication greeting. The question is now... why?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

* * *

**2339 Earth**

* * *

Guinan stepped cautiously toward Soran's lab, careful to ignore any passersby, as she believed Soran would have. Taking another step closer, the door did not immediately open. Instead a red haze projected from just above the door frame. She tensed only slightly as the haze scanned her.

"Good evening, Doctor Soran."

Guinan returned the computer's greeting sharply. "There's very little good about it, computer." She tried to step forward, but felt the red haze catch her gently like a net."

Did you forget something doctor?" The computer inquired in the same bland but pleasant tone. "After all, you only just left a few minutes ago. I did not expect you back until tomorrow morning."

"I come and go as I please, computer...you should know that by now."

"Yes, Doctor," the computer agreed, but still held her gently in place. "Still as you have previously required when you arrive outside your regularly scheduled hours, additional security precautions are appropriate."

Guinan's heart began to race again. Additional security precautions? Her eyes fell on a glowing palm print embedded in the doorway just below her eye level. "Right," she muttered and reached out confidently, pressing her palm to fit it.

"Thank you, Doctor Soran," the computer said pleasantly, releasing the disguised Guinan from its security web.

Guinan walked slowly forward into the laboratory. She glanced around to see row upon row of tightly shut metal drawers, from floor to ceiling, neatly labeled. It was some kind of storage room, couldn't be Soran's actual work space because, well there was no actual evidence of work having been done. It was much too neat and tidy; even for Soran. Pondering her next steps, she stood very still in the center of the room. Now that she was here, how was she to find this weapon? Of course, Q was now notably absent.

"What are you thinking about, Tolian?"

Guinan nearly jumped into the air in surprise. The computer's voice had immediately changed once Guinan stepped out of the corridor and into Soran's private domain.

"What do you mean?" Guinan asked cautiously.

The computer's response confirmed Guinan's initial reaction. The voice was now softer and more intimate. The computer sighed. "You've been so distant lately. I only want to know that you're alright," said the computer.

"I've-I've just been working very hard, that's all," Guinan said. She paused, and a brilliant idea struck her. Well, it was something at least. "Elena..." She said and then held her breath, now banking her entire plan on what she now hoped was the truth: that Soran had patterned his computer after his dead wife.

"Yes, Tolian?"

"Something actually is on my mind..."

"Yes?"

"My most important project, Elena. I've got to put the finished touches on it."

"But it is finished, Tolian," the computer reassured her. "Are you still concerned that the Admiral intends on taking it from us?"

_Us._ "I don't know...should I be?"

"You listened to the message he sent you five times this afternoon, dear. I can tell you are worried."

Guinan shifted her feet. "Please play the message again, Elena." Immediately an audio message filled the room. _"Doctor Soran, we are losing patience with you. You've had every kind of support Intel. could give you... including more time. But your time is quickly running out. We need the technology you promised us, and we need it now."_

"End of message," said the computer. So Starfleet Intelligence was aware of Soran's weapon and in fact believed they had commissioned it? Did they have any idea that Soran intended to somehow gain revenge against the Borg? But the humans knew nothing of the Borg, did they? The easiest explanation was that Soran was using Starfleet facilities and resources, all the while deceiving them about his true intentions.

"Elena, I need to see my project," Guinan said quickly, feeling inexplicably nervous again.

"Of course, Tolian." Instantly the wall of endless drawers slid back and gave way to an enormous laboratory. The cavernous and cluttered room within looked like chaos to her unscientific eye. Instruments and data pads lay strewn about the room as though an El-Aurian wind storm had blown through suddenly. Her anxiety growing, Guinan walked in to the lab. The air inside was completely still and somewhat musty. She turned around slowly. No sign of any terrifying weapon.

"Tolian you seem confused. What's wrong?" Asked the gentle voice of the computer.

"It's just as you mentioned, Elena...I'm concerned about the Admiral and his message." Guinan tried to look less out of place as she glanced around the lab.

She saw absolutely nothing that resembled a weapon. Whatever information Q had stored in her mind was failing her. Not for the first time, she began to question her entire arrangement with Q. She could leave the facility, and Soran would be none the wiser. She even took a shuffling step backwards, before reconsidering.

"My memory escapes me, Elena," she ventured, deciding to try a little honesty. "I need to take a look at my most recent calibration. Please transport my project here," she said gesturing in front of her.

The computer did not hesitate. "Please recite the security password, Tolian, so that I may comply with your request."

Guinan hesitated, silently cursing her foolishness. The computer was on to her.

"It is not like you at all to hesitate, Tolian. I am concerned by your behavior. Please recite the password."

Q had failed her...deliberately and for his own amusement no doubt. Guinan shut her eyes tightly and quieted her mind. She thought about the real Tolian Soran and how he would react in this situation, and most importantly, what words were so personal to him that he would use them to guard his most important creation? She pictured him in her mind, as she had seen him so many times while travelling together on the ship of refugees. He would crouch over the tiny holographic image of his wife Elena, and he would whisper...what was it he whispered all those years ago?

"My beloved," she heard herself say into the empty room, and her eyes snapped open again. In front of her, hovering in mid-air was the tiny holographic platform, just the size of her fingertip. She blinked. Could this be it? He'd fashioned a weapon so ingenious that it fit inside that tiny receptacle. No one would suspect destructive power from such an ordinary item. She reached out and her fingers clasped around it in a gentle but firm grip, enclosing it inside her palm.

It occurred to her then that this small item could mean the difference for her people, and an entire star system.

"Put my property down very carefully on that table, or I'll vaporize you, one limb at a time." Guinan froze at the sound of the familiar voice behind her. "This is a vintage Romulan disruptor with only two settings...or is it just one?" Tolian Soran warned her, as he slowly began to circle.

She glanced down at her clothing and hands, seeing with alarm that she had reverted back to her old appearance. She sighed. "And I'm guessing stun is not an option," she said resignedly.

Soran laughed bitterly. "How dare you come back here? How dare you invade my private lab?"

Still gripping Soran's science project in her palm, Guinan turned around slowly to look at him. His arm was outstretched, gripping the gun in his shaking fist. He looked...unhinged.

"Is it really your lab, or does it belong to Starfleet?"

"Have I not made myself clear enough...your meddling is not wanted here, Guinan. Now give me back my property and get out of here."

"I can't let you do it, Tolian."

"You have no conception of my plans or my ability to carry them out, Guinan. It's simple: leave, now, or die here."

If she made a conscious choice to move, she couldn't recall later on, but ducking down she threw herself to the left, diving behind a table just as Soran fired his weapon. She landed hard, but rolled to her feet, sprinting toward the exit. She heard him shout something enraged and unintelligible, as he fired again.

This time, something seared through her right arm. Falling to the floor, she knew the disruptor fire had come close to incinerating the right side of her body. Instead, Soran' s poor aim had merely left her with an excruciating burn.

Wheezing, and nearly blacking out from the pain, she struggled back to her feet. She should have been dead in that next moment, but instead, Soran' s frustrated screams filled the room, and she saw that she was again invisible. He fired wildly, but she edged her way to the door, thanking and cursing Q simultaneously inside her mind.

* * *

Ensign Picard stepped out of his shower, toweled himself off and considered his plans for the evening. Then he concluded, he had none. He wrapped the towel around his waist and headed through his tiny apartment for the replicator in his even tinier kitchen. He glanced out the window and saw a typical San Francisco evening fog had descended on the city. Accordingly, he programmed himself a suitable meal of some soup and a piece of bread. Deciding there was no need to find a chair to sit in, he leaned against the counter and munched the piece of bread, deep in thought. After a few moments of peace, there was a banging sound from the entryway. He peered toward door, and the banging became louder. It was more of a thudding sound really.

"There is a door bell, you know," he shouted, putting down his bowl with a clatter.

So irritated that he didn't bother to check his security camera, he walked quickly toward the door and smacked the release. The door swished open, and he was immediately faced with the strange woman he'd met earlier that day in the park. He adjusted his towel self-consciously, before seeing that she did not appear well. She leaned against the side of the doorway, her face etched in pain. Just then the sky opened up and began to pour down rain. Suddenly he remembered her name. "Guinan?"

She clutched her right arm. "Picard...I'm in trouble. Do you know how to pilot a ship?"

Confused, he reached out to beckon her inside. "Yes," he said, mostly unaware of the trouble he was headed for.

* * *

**Thanks for reading...**


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